The Wife
by myBlueprints
Summary: 5 times Abbie was mistaken to be Ichabod's wife.
1. Chapter 1

The first time it happened, he thought it was really funny.

He was using the little break time he had-while Abbie went out for food-to stretch his legs around the precinct. He wasn't stupid, he knew that the majority of the police force didn't want him around, but he didn't care. Precisely, because they didn't accept his presence, he paraded about the place as though he owned it. Thanks to the Captain, and Abbie (putting everyone is their place if they dared to make a remark), Ichabod was at liberty to do as he pleased at the precinct. That day however, he chose to wander in a more secluded part.

His legs, instead of his brain did the thinking, carrying him along the many corridors of the precinct, and into narrow passages he didn't know existed for official use. He came across tiny rooms that he didn't care to learn what they were for, because his interest was only bringing his legs, his entire body and brain to a diversion away from the books and thinking that awaited him in the work room. It was a difference to not bump into any one person in all the corridors, or to hear the atmosphere that usually accompanied office space; telephones ringing, papers shuffling, feet being dragged. It was so different that he found himself smiling, basking in the tranquillity. He walked past a widely open door. From the room, a delightful smell of coffee was coming. Without meaning to, he peeped inside the office. He saw a young woman sitting atop her desk, one leg crossing over the other, and a mug in her hand. Clearly, she was having a moment of relaxation, and Ichabod felt the heel for intruding on such a moment. Quickly before she could spot him, he removed his head and began walking away from the office.

Not more than three steps away from the door, he heard the sound of heels clicking on the floor, heavily reminding him of Abbie.

'Excuse me!' he heard from behind him. At first, his brain told him that it was Abbie, but he thought better of it when he remembered that Abbie would've called his name. He turned around to see who it was.

It was no one other than the woman he'd spied on some seconds before. His heart stopped beating, he had been caught, and he didn't know if he would explain that he wasn't really spying on her.

'Miss?' he decided to play innocent, at least for as long as she would allow it.

'Hi,' she smiled shyly, stopping in her tracks. Ichabod noticed how small she was, tall, but very small.

'Is something the matter Miss?' he wouldn't bring up the spying if she didn't.

'Uh...' she started, her voice a pitch of nervousness, 'Not really, it's just...My name's Cindy-'

'Miss Cindy,' he bowed, 'humbled to make your acquaintance.'

'Oh,' Cindy blushed a little, 'you too...So I'm Cindy, and I'm the person who makes sure that everyone in this place gets their salaries.' Ichabod assumed from her words that she wanted to ask him about his payment plan.

'You want to ask me something I suppose?'

'Actually, I just wanted to see your wife.'

'My wife?' He wasn't aware that Katrina knew anyone who wasn't Abbie, Captain Irving or Jenny, much less someone who worked in the quietest part of the station.

Cindy nodded, 'She has to sign some forms. I only started working here three weeks ago, and as you must know, every time employees change, things have to be signed, that kind of thing.'

'But what does my wife have to sign? What is it in connection with?' Now he was growing worried, because he's never had to sign anything, Abbie wouldn't even allow him to apply for an ID until the person she knew was handling it personally. Why on earth would Katrina need to sign anything when her stay in Sleepy Hollow hasn't amounted to a month yet?

'It's just to say that I can continue to pay your consulting fee into her account, so if anything goes wrong, we signed papers and all that. Captain Irving said that's how it was always done.' Cindy finished her sentence with a shrug.

Ichabod was confused, Katrina didn't have an account for payments, and besides his consulting fee, he got from-

'Abbie,' he realised softly. Cindy was talking about Abbie. He nearly laughed, but he contained himself, it would be rude to laugh for no apparent reason in a lady's face. Whatever made her think that Abbie was his wife?

'You would like to see Abigail Mills?'

'Yes.' Cindy nodded.

'If I may, what made you think she was my wife? You said you've only been here a few weeks, and I daresay I've never run into you before today...So there is the question of how you know me.'

'You guys park next to me, and every morning I see you. I like to sit in my car before I come here and just observe. And I asked around, everyone said you're always together. Then there was the whole payment thing, I mean, which man would allow his money to fall straight into a bank account that wasn't his? Plus, I heard Wendy say that she's your significant shadow or something...' When she put it like that, the wife thing did sort of have half a foot to stand on, but really it was just ridiculous.

'She's not my wife,' he told her.

'She's not?' Cindy frowned.

'No. I do have a wife, but it's not her.' He didn't know if he could explain beyond that. Abbie wasn't his wife, that's all she had to understand.

'Okay,' Cindy dragged the word, 'I feel a little embarrassed for saying all that stuff, so if you don't mind I'm just going to kick myself in private.' Before he could answer, she turned and broke into a half run back to her office. Ichabod couldn't contain his amusement at the whole thing, releasing what he'd kept inside for the sake of manners. Abbie, his wife, that had to be the single most hilarious thing anyone has ever thought of him.


	2. Chapter 2

The second time it happened, he was a little confused.

Katrina contracted a fungal infection, her pale skin was flaming up horribly and she wouldn't stop scratching. He called Abbie and she showed up ten minutes later to take her to the hospital. In another ten minutes, they arrived at the hospital, and as he helped Katrina out of the car, Abbie began scratching on her arms. Ichabod noticed, but he didn't think anything of it, and apparently, neither did Abbie. When the three of them made it to the reception area, Abbie was all but peeling her skin off. The way she was vigorously clawing at her face and arms concerned him.

'Why,' he asked, lightly moving Katrina to his left so that he stood between the two women, 'are you attempting to disfigure yourself? What on earth are you doing to yourself?'

'I'm itching like crazy. I swear to you,' she said in between trying to pull her face apart, 'I'm going to die.'

He looked at Katrina, and although she was inflamed and itching, Abbie seemed to be more in need of attention then she did. His fear of her actually doing damage to herself if she didn't see a doctor soon made gave him extra reason to focus on her. Quickly, he led both women-a hand on each of their backs-to the waiting seats, and he went off in search for a nurse or any hospital staff who could treat the women.

The nurse he found hurried along with him to the waiting space. By then, Abbie was rocking up and down on the heels of her feet, clearly in more discomfort than before. Katrina was scratching too, but not as intensely as Abbie was, and neither did she look ready to explode.

'Are you all right?' he asked as he came to stand before Abbie, the nurse beside him.

'No,' she snapped, quickly rising to her feet, 'I feel like I'm on fire.'

'I brought a nurse,' he told her. He took hold of her wrists when she tried to scratch some more on her face.

'And stop that,' he slightly loosened his grip, 'It does no good.' He only wanted to keep her from scratching, but she was evidently annoyed and very uncomfortable. Abbie wrenched her wrists from him, 'You start itching, then start scratching and tell me it does no good.'

'Yes, it does no good.' He remained equally as stubborn as her, once again capturing her wrists in his hands, gripping more firmly this time, 'All you'll achieve are bruises on your face.'

'Exactly,' she spat, 'My face, not yours.' He understood that she was in great discomfort, and so let her go.

'Very well,' he surrendered his arms to his sides, 'As you were.' They glared at each other hotly; he, irked that she wasn't listening to him, and she, annoyed with him for being right, but so wrong about it not helping to scratch.

'Ichabod.' It was Katrina getting his attention. When he looked at her, her skin looked twelve shades redder than before.

'Katrina,' he stepped to her, pulling her up immediately.

'Nurse,' he turned to the nurse (who had observed his show with Abbie in curious silence), 'where shall take them?'

'They should come with me,' she told him, 'You stay here sir!'

'But, my wife-' he began to protest, looking from Abbie to Katrina.

'We'll take care of her,' she cut him off, 'and your friend here.' The nurse held out a hand for Katrina, who took it readily.

'Just stay here and wait sir,' the nurse instructed him. He watched Katrina and Abbie being led away until they disappeared from his sight.

Forty minutes later, after two long walks around the entire hospital building (it wasn't that big really) and three cans of horrible energy drink (surprisingly, they helped in calming him down), Ichabod saw the nurse who'd taken Katrina and Abbie away. She didn't see him when she walked by.

'Nurse,' he called, running after her.

'Oh,' she said when she saw it was him, 'I came looking for you but you weren't here.'

'I stepped outside. Is my wife all right? May I see her?' He wanted to know how Abbie was doing too, but he first wanted to find out about Katrina.

The nurse smiled, 'She's fine, I'll take you to her. Follow me please.'

'Thank you,' he said as they started walking.

'Is it dire what she has?' he asked.

'No,' the nurse shook her head, 'it was just a false alarm. She's perfectly fine.' He didn't get if the inflamed skin was the false alarm, but he didn't ask either.

They reached a door that read, 'Exam 1'.

'She's in here. I'll be in the next room with your friend, she needs a little more attention.' The nurse showed him the room in which she would be going, just a small distance away from the current one. He waited until she was far enough, to open the door and enter into the room.

'Abbie?'

The reason he didn't knock was that he was sure it was Katrina in the room. But there stood Abbie, in the centre of his view, just beginning to put her top on. She looked up in surprise.

'What are you doing here?' he asked, very confused by her presence when he expected to see Katrina. He wasn't even really seeing that she was half undressed before him.

'What are you doing here?' she asked him. She also forgot that she was getting dressed, her top hung down from her hand.

'I asked to see my wife, and the nurse showed me into this room,' he told her. In his head, he was thinking that she'd made a mistake, forgetting which woman was in which room.

'What, did you say that you wanted to see your wife Abbie?'

'No.'

'So why did she show you this room? Did you tell her that I'm your wife?'

'I said no such thing to her,' he said defensively.

Abbie only shrugged, 'Whatever. I need to get dressed. Go find your other wife.'

'I assure you, I said nothing to the nurse. I simply asked to see my wife, and she brought me to the door behind me.' He was reasoning with himself more than telling her, because he wanted to figure out why the nurse would think Abbie was his wife.

'Crane, I believe you,' she told him as she stuck her arms through the openings of her top. 'Just go and find Katrina, she might not be doing well.' She got her head through the top and pulled it down her stomach.

'The nurse said she was fine,' he said without thinking.

'The same nurse who made me your wife?'

'Right,' his lips thinned, 'I suppose your condition was the false alarm then?' Even as he asked, he knew the answer. It dawned on him that the nurse truly believed Abbie to be his wife.

'It's kind of a perceived-projected allergy kind of thing, or something like that. Nothing's wrong with me, I just can't see Katrina all itchy and red,' Abbie explained.

'Your mind made it up?'

'Wow,' she folds her arms, 'first I'm your wife, and then I'm crazy. Wanna go for a third?'

'You know none of that is true, but I apologise anyway.'

Abbie gave him a little smile, 'Yeah...I'm sorry too. For being a little mean earlier. And thanks for not allowing me to make myself ugly.'

Ichabod smiled warmly, 'You are welcome, although I really did it for myself. I cannot bear to work alongside ugliness.' She threw her head back and laughed her most hearty laugh, it was infectious, and he couldn't resist joining her. The truth was, he did like to see her beautiful face, it would've been unfortunate if she'd damaged it. As much as he wanted to remain with Abbie, he really had to check on Katrina.

'Would you mind if I went to see Katrina?' He wasn't sure why he was asking for her permission.

'Go,' she waved a careless hand, 'It's fine. I'm not the jealous type.'

'Ha-ah!' he exclaimed in a nervous laugh. He was glad she found it funny that she was his supposed wife, because he didn't. He found it confusing, and the second he found the nurse, he would ask her to explain why she thought that way.


	3. Chapter 3

The third time it happened, he nearly didn't understand the assumption.

Abbie liked to take him along to the diner near the best petrol station on the main road. She always said, 'My car gets gas, I get fed, and you get to complain. See? Everyone's happy,' but he knew it was really because it was the only diner in Sleepy Hollow that didn't have apple pie on the menu.

The diner wasn't exactly near the cabin, and he never went to it without Abbie, but that evening, as he sat curled up beside Katrina, and she mentioned wanting to have sour-cherry pie (he'd once brought it for her after Abbie convinced him that she would love it), he developed a sudden taste for ice-cream with fudge. Of course, he didn't tell her that he would linger in the diner a little to enjoy the ice-cream with fudge.

He called for a taxi, and in minutes, he was at the diner, going straight to the table he always sat with Abbie. It was a wonder it was always unoccupied.

'Good evening,' he greeted the waitress who approached him. The young lady looked at him as though she was seeing him for the second time that day.

'Good evening sir,' she recovered from staring at him, 'May I take your order?'

'Indeed,' he said, and without looking at the menu she sat before him, he recited, 'I would like one sour-cherry pie and ice-cream-'

'With fudge,' she completed his order for him.

He looked at her for a second, trying to figure out why she looked at him the way she did and how she knew his order.

'How did you..?'

'You always order it,' she said without missing a beat.

'Oh,' was all he said. He realised that she must know him from the times he came there with Abbie. Strangely enough, he couldn't remember her.

'Uh-huh,' she nodded, 'Two Portuguese buns and coffee, and ice-cream with fudge. That's always your order. And you always sit at the same table, facing the door.' He only stared at her.

'I'm not stalking you or anything, I just happen to be on cashier duty when you are here. Except today.'

That made sense, because when he turned his head, he could see the girl who was the day's cashier. That's how the young lady knew all that she knew, she had a very good view of the table from the cashier spot.

'Of course,' he accepted her explanation.

'Okay then,' she flashed him a warm smile, 'I'll bring your order.'

'Thank you,' he said.

'About the pie, should I put it in take-out box?'

'Yes please.' She turned and walked away. He was beginning to believe that the lady knew all there was to know about him, even the only time he's ever taken out a pie.

She brought him the ice-cream with the promise of bringing him the pie along with the bill when he was done. And just as she said, she brought him a take-out box (with the pie no doubt) and his bill.

'There you go,' she placed the box before him. He noticed that it was wrapped with a ribbon.

'Well,' he eyed the ribbon carefully, 'my wife will certainly appreciate this little feature. Thank you Miss.' Katrina loved little gestures, the simple ribbon would melt her greatly.

'You're welcome. She was really upset when she came earlier and we didn't have any sour-cherry pie. I was so sure she'd never come back. That's why I wrapped it, plus there's an extra slice in there from me.'

'My...my wife?' The waitress nodded.

'My wife was here?' No wonder she had the craving for sour-cherry pie, she wanted it earlier and when she didn't get it, her want for it only increased. But there was something wrong, Katrina didn't know about the diner, at least not as far as he knew.

'Yeah, that's why I was so surprised to see you here without her. First she came in alone, and then you came in alone, you guys are always together.'

'I've never been here with my wife.' But he's been there with Abbie, plenty of times. The young lady frowned deeply, a tell sign that she didn't believe him.

'I assure you Miss, my wife has never set foot in this diner. She is only very recently in Sleepy Hollow.'

'The beautiful short woman is not your wife?'

Abbie. Once again, it was Abbie. Why was he even surprised? It wasn't the first time someone suggested that.

'No,' he said softly, 'no, she's not my wife.'

'Really?' her frowned deepened even more.

'Really.'

'Ha,' she said softly, and she looked at the box on the table.

'So...that pie's not for her?'

'Abbie? No.'

'It's for your wife?'

'Katrina, yes.' He really had to start going around town with Katrina so that people saw her, and learned that she was his wife.

'Will you see Abbie today?' she asked.

'No.' It was getting extremely late, and he had nothing to talk about with Abbie.

Without warning, she roughly took the box off the table into her hands, leaving Ichabod very confused.

'I'll bring you another pie.' She walked away before he could ask what she meant by her action and words.

She returned a minute later with a different box and no ribbon on it. 'There you go. This is for your wife. I hope she enjoys it.' Her voice was very friendly and polite, but he detected that she didn't mean her words. And she'd changed the boxes.

'Miss, did I upset you?'

'I can't believe Abbie's not your wife. You guys are super meant to be, super cute and everything. And she tips really well.' The waitress was sulking, and Ichabod nearly felt sorry for her, nearly. But he wouldn't apologise for being married to Katrina.

'I am sorry that you feel that way,' he said, pushing his chair out, 'Thank you for everything. Have a very good night.'

He didn't need to hear anything else.


	4. Chapter 4

'Note, I assure you, my wife is alive and well,' he says with a little less conviction than he usually has. At that precise moment, the door to his home opens. Both he and Caroline turn in surprise to the door. A soft 'Ag' is heard before Abbie comes into view. Simultaneously, their faces take on looks of alarm; her mouth opens as one who has been discovered in the act, while his forms into a little 'Oh', their eyes enlarging in shock.

Abbie sees their expressions of guilt, and while she doesn't believe anything inappropriate was going on, she can't help her face contradicting her thoughts, clearly she's walked into something.

Okay, she thinks, they don't look guilty. 'I didn't mean to interrupt,' she says, sounding not sorry for doing so.

Still horrified, Caroline starts in a rush, 'I'm such an idiot,' she lifts her hands as though in surrender, 'This is not what it looks like Mrs. Crane.' The red-haired young woman quickly moves away from Ichabod to the table on the side of the room.

'Mrs. who now? Abbie looks from Caroline to Ichabod.

'Oh, no, no, uh...' his feet take him nearer to the door, than to Abbie, 'Miss Mills is my partner...' Abbie looks on at the scene before her. Caroline hastily gathering her things from the table, Ichabod making a fool of himself trying to explain that Abbie is not his wife, she can't help but enjoy it. He realises how telling his words are, 'Uh, not life partner, she's my...we...oh look, she comes bearing a selection of delicacies from the far east.'

Abbie doesn't even hide her amusement, nor does she try to help him out of the misunderstanding. Her life wouldn't be as half as interesting if she didn't have little Crane moments such as now to light up her day. And so early in the morning.

She flips the receipt stapled on the bag to read the name of the goodies she already knows, only for pretence, 'Commonly known as Yummy Food Szechuan.' Caroline only stops walking to wait for Abbie to finish talking, but starts awkwardly moving past Abbie and Crane once Abbie is done.

'I'll be going now, excuse me,' she says in clear embarrassment while making her exit through the door. A flustered Ichabod less than carefully places his pile of clothes on the table next to the door, clumsily trying to get Caroline to stop so he can explain things better, 'No, Miss Caroline...please.'

'Thanks,' the young woman says just before she leaves the cabin completely. He stands in the doorway for a second after she's gone, staring after her, and then decides to let her be. He pulls the door closed behind him slowly.

'We need a signal,' Abbie walks to him, pushing the bag of delicacies onto his chest, which he catches with his hand at the bottom.

'Hang a tie on the doorknob or something.' That's the most she can go without laughing, she can't hold it in anymore.

'Leftenant,' he sighs is slight frustration, 'you are making light of a very uncomfortable situation.' She stops laughing, but continues smiling.

'I was regretfully unaware of Miss Caroline's affections for...me,' the 'me' in his sentence is said in a reluctant way.

'Ah!' she steps in, 'anyone could see that girl had a case of Crane on the brain.'

'Miss Mills,' Ichabod takes some steps to her at the table, 'I am no expert on the matter...for example when Katrina professed her love, I had no idea that-'

'Speaking of Katrina...you should give me a heads up the next time you decide to tell someone I'm your wife, so I'm not the last to find out.'

He looks offended, sounding it too, 'I did no such thing with Miss Caroline, I happened to be telling her that I had a wife and precisely at that moment you walked in.'

'And she just assumed I was your wife? I could've been anyone.' It's happened before, so she's not really surprised that the poor girl thought that.

'Well, you did enter without knocking...I think that is grounds for some-albeit tiny-suspicion.'

Abbie shakes her head, 'I really need to stop spending so much time with you.' Even if she didn't need to spend time with him, she thinks she probably still would. He makes her life something it wasn't before.

'I suppose after the seven years we can part ways?' he suggests.

'Yeah, no, I was thinking, go to places less with you, not bring you pastries in the morning that kind of thing...do you know the other day, Susan asked me where you were, like she expected you to be with me.' Susan has known Abbie longer than seven years without Ichabod, which made Abbie wonder why she would ask about Ichabod if the two of them have only eaten at Susan's restaurant twice, now she gets an idea why.

'We always are together Miss Mills,' he reminds her.

'Yes, and that's why people start thinking I'm your wife...I could pull it off, but I seriously am not doing the red hair...which you by the way just seem to attract.' He has no reply to that, not to her being able (or willing) to be his 'wife', and certainly not to the red hair attraction thing.

Changing the subject is the only thing he can do, 'Shall we get going?'


	5. Chapter 5

The fifth time it happened, he started having serious thoughts about it.

She took him to a fair, because she knew that he wanted to go. And also, she didn't have anything better to do, she told him with a shrug when she showed up at his door.

The fair was like nothing he saw in his day, nothing at all. He gawked at everything around him; stopping here to touch this, asking her to explain what purpose that over there was meant to serve; nearly getting into small arguments with one or two vendors…

When they entered a fairly small tent and discovered that it was a bakery promotional tent, she received a call and told him to look around. He looked around, he looked around with a paper plate in his hand, filling it with all the free samples he came across – it wasn't his fault that the bakery staff insisted that he tried everything he liked on the sample menu. When there was no more room on his plate, he walked over to a free table to place his plate on.

'A good day to you sir,' he greeted an old man (around the age of fifty), that was standing at the table next to his. The tables weren't big at all, they looked bigger than the average stool, but not big enough for three people to share.

The old man gave him a kind smile, 'That it is,' he said, then nodded to his plate, 'Sweet tooth too?'

'I'm merely sampling,' he said honestly. To prove his point, he removed a Cannoli from the pile. He smiled gently as he remembered that the Leftenant loved that piece of pastry. Perhaps he would leave her a share…

He was about to put it inside his mouth when she appeared next to him, he turned to look at her.

'What is the matter?' he asked her with a frown. She looked like she was disapproving of something.

'First of all,' her lips pursed softly, 'what did I tell you about too much sugar in _your_ system?' One of her hands slid under his and somehow managed to get the plate out of his hand.

She balanced the plate in her small hand, 'That's way too much sugar.'

He was ready to start a negotiation for her to allow him even a little of what was on the plate, but she stopped him when her free hand reached up for the Cannoli he'd been about to deposit into his mouth. She took it from him with a strained smile, one that said that she wasn't pleased with him.

'And secondly,' she said, 'that's the only Cannoli on the plate.' With that, she turned on her heel and left him staring after her in disbelief. Had he just been robbed of his pastries without a single attempt at fighting back? Laughter brought him from his thoughts. It was the old man.

'You know,' the old man began, 'your wife reminds me of my wife. Of course, no one is as beautiful as my Lilian…'

'My…wife?' he stuttered a little. He was still to get over the fact that he just lost his plate of pastries, the comment about 'his wife' wasn't yet registered in his head.

'I have a sweet tooth too,' he confessed, 'but my wife…well,' he shrugged, 'she's exactly like yours.'

The shock was starting to wear off. Did the old man just call Miss Mills his wife? 'And,' he cleared his throat, 'and how is that?'

The man got a faraway look in his eyes, while a soft smile crept up on his face, 'She knows exactly what's good for me. Lilian makes choices for me, only because she knows that they are best for me. And that I have no power against her. She pushes me to be better, to want to be better for her. Sometimes I say and do silly things, just because it'll make her laugh and she secretly enjoys it when I do. She shows me love in the little things she does. Like when makes me an omelet and she's allergic to eggs. Or when she sews on a missing button on my shirt.'

He started to consider the old man's words. That was not exactly the case with him and Miss Mills. Not exactly.

Yes, he sometimes did things for the reason that they'd make her laugh. And yes, she sometimes smiled that smile of hers that he didn't ever see her give to anyone else. At times, he didn't even need to tell her what he needed, because she knew what he needed just by looking at him. But that didn't mean that she was his wife, it just meant that she knew him, that she cared so very much for him, to pay attention to who he was, what he liked and what he wanted. It simply meant that she was a wonderful person that put his needs before her own, because she considered him important in her life.

'Women like that,' the old man said after the silence, 'are the strength we have. I wouldn't know what to do without Lilian.'

He wanted to come clean and tell the old man that Miss Mills wasn't his wife (even though she'd been mistaken as such on too many occasions), but the old man smiled a knowing smile and nodded his head behind him. He turned to see what he was indicating to.

It was Miss Mills. In her hand she held a paper cup.

'One filter coffee with insane amounts of cinnamon sugar and cream,' she held it out to him with a smile.

He looked back at the old man whose name he didn't know, then returned his eyes to her, 'For me?' That was one way that he liked his coffee when they went out. He knew it was for him, but with the previous words of the old man, he had to ask.

'I made it myself,' she gave him his answer. 'It's not as hazardous as all that sugar and fat you chose.'

He smiled warmly as he took it from her, 'Thank you.' He wouldn't give much thought to it yet, but he supposed the old man was right in a way. Miss Mills wasn't his wife, but he knew one thing; she did show love in the little things she did for him.

'And it's really sweet. Perfect for your sugar addiction,' she added brightly. 'Come on, we'll get pie on the way home.' When she turned her back, he turned to the old man.

'It was a pleasure talking to you sir,' he said sincerely. Had they not spoken, he wouldn't have realised that he had everything he ever dreamt to have, right next to him. Everyday, for the past two years.


End file.
